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| ChildrenLately, I've been really upset over things going on in around me. I guess it's not my place to criticize, mostly due to hypocrisy; I'll rant and roll about all this stuff, but I won't do anything to stop it because I feel powerless, judgmental, and, conclusively, stupid. I begin to think, Well, what's the point? There's a stronger argument, a stronger voice of conviction that will override the things that I think are happening. So here I sit, wondering and wasting, thinking about how powerless the individual is and chewing on my fingernails because I don't know where to begin. There's so many ins-and-outs to these things, and though I try to figure out what exactly is the truth, I find myself in the middle wondering which is up and which is down.
The other day I was talking to my mother about a birthday party my cousin was throwing for her son. I told her I wasn't going to go because I don't like my cousin or how she treats her children and the people around her. I told her I didn't like how she treats my grandparents. My mother kind of looked at me odd and said, Well, just look at how they were raised. But is that an valid argument? Look how I was raise and how this person was raised but does that excuse them from scorn if they don't know how to respect other people? (This line seems foolish and hypocritical as I am sounding like I don't respect her; I don't think I do, but I guess my excuse is that I won't go out of my way to make her life harder, but I also won't go out of my way to help her either...) And it seems that the reason I don't want to associate with them is because I see the same cycle running through her and her children, the same that ran through her and my uncle. Then I thought about it more and think, Is it right to not want to associate with her children because I don't like their mother? Am I obligated by family and society to love the children and find them blameless in everything they do because of the way they are raised? Because they don't know right and wrong and because their mother does not show any inclination of showing them the difference because she wasn't shown?
I have no idea. I know these children aren't hopeless, that things change, but how can I not be mean and feel vile about it because I dislike them and feel like they are hopeless; that they will continue to be detrimental to society and the quality of their lives and the people around them? I know I sound like a fucking asshole...
It just seems crazy how things are going in regards to children. It's scary. I'm afraid for Allele's first day of school because... I'm worried that the kids will treat her awful. At her birthday party one of my cousin's little girls (I think she's one or two) reached and pulled at Allele's glasses and was trying to bend them off her face. Allele only stood there and and simply didn't know what to do. What am I supposed to do with that? Alisha rushed to her and stopped her while my cousin either wasn't aware of this occurrence or she didn't care. Maybe we should have drawn it to her attention, maybe we should have said, Hey, your daughter just tried to break Allele's glasses, but what could we expect but a small laugh and shrug of the shoulder?
It just seems that life goes around and around until it won't go anymore; that all the mistakes of our parents all of the faults of our parent's parents and their parent's parent's parents, continue endlessly throughout time to create maliciousness and meanness in the form of prejudice. Is this the source of these harbored feelings of anger and outrage? It seems that when it comes down to it, when faced with a choice, that we subconsciously remember what our parents did or didn't do and sometimes this weighs in on making the wrong or careless choice.
But then I think of her, my cousin. Is there something in her that says, I'm not going to make the same mistakes my parents made, I'm gong to put aside the past and remember that these children are essential to the future of the civility of society? I haven't seen anything yet to provide an answer to this. But, let's put myself in the situation, in her shoes, how can I raise my children well if I don't know any better? Am I to blame because I'm ignorant of how to raise my children? Or to blame because I was raised in an abusive home so I think it's okay to be neglectful or abusive to my children? I remember my grandmother telling me that my other cousin was being beaten by her husband, and when I asked why anyone would do that, she answered, Well, that's what he grew up around growing up; his father used to beat his mother. Though that makes sense--not saying it's a good or valid excuse--it's baffling to think about that happening, him seeing it and living it, and respond to it by believing its okay to also beat his own wife, despite the shame of knowing its wrong; straight-out wrong.
Repeating the mistakes of our parents. Not learning. Being lazy and choosing to stay ignorant rather than understanding the other argument.
I sound like a goddamn asshole right about now. I'm not saying I'm perfect or that I'm the perfect father, but I try goddammit. And though sometimes I don't know any better (I guess that's an excuse), I know I do love Allele and Alisha enough to lay my life before them and hope they will correct me in my mistakes and my prejudice even if I don't like it. And though I may make the same mistakes over and over again, I hope that I can make amends for my wrongdoings.
I don't know if that makes any sense, if any of this makes any fucking sense.
"Jesus Christ was not a hard taskmaster. He understood our little failings, understood the weakness of our poor fallen nature, understood the temptations of this life. We might have had, we all had from time to time, our temptations: we might have, we all had, our failings. But one thing only, he said, he would ask of his hearers. And that was: to be straight and manly with God. If their accounts tallied in every point to say:
--Well, I have verified my accounds. I find all well.
But if, as might happen, there were some discrepancies, to admit the truth, to be frank and say like a man:
--Well, I have looked into my accounts. I find this wrong and this wrong. But, with God's grace, I will retify this and this. I will set right my accounts." - James Joyce, "Grace"
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| The Wind-up Bird. Birthdays. The New Baby.In the mornings when it's still dark I walk outside to my car. There's always a cat on the lane, waiting near the entrance to the street or near the dumpster in the back; most times I see a blur flee around the corner of our home. Lately, I've been noticing the sounds of the morning: this morning it was the sound of machinery from somewhere far off, like they were excavating a couple blocks away--but perhaps, my mind reasoned at the time, it was the swamp cooler rattling on the neighbors house, and I simply could not tell? The other morning I was reminded of Murakami's The Wind-up Bird Chronicle as my ears heard something like a spring winding: "The spring of the world winding-up" (paraphrased) and awkwardly I found myself imagining a plastic bird winding itself somewhere beyond the trees across the street. That's pathetic, but it distinctly sounded like that. Perhaps it was another swamp cooler somewhere struggling to keep up with this summer muck.
Allele turned three last Sunday, while Alisha turned twenty-two Saturday. And soon there'll be another birthday in September. I'm excited, but calm. It's different. I don't want to say I'm not as excited, but I think I already know kind of what to expect.
There's flies in the window, and I've been spending too much time posting these things. I'm tired and also feel like I have a million things to do. I keep thinking of the nesting urge parents get before their child is born--it's an odd feeling, very primal but funny knowing we're connected in the same balance as everything else...
Yeah, spending way too much time doing this... going to read The Odyssey (also taking a long time to finish).
The internet is one big damn distraction.
"This city's no longer mine,
there's sadness written on every corner."
- The Whitest Boy Alive, "Golden Cage"
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| Yesterday's coffee is in the microwave undergoing treatment. We stayed up late last night, one or two in the morning. I remember slowly laying down in bed, and that's it. I don't remember if I dreamed. The curtains are close right now and I hear flip-flops paddling up and down the lane. It's hot today.
This morning we had three calls. Two were from the same woman, calling for the GET station. Another called, a man, who I couldn't understand; I kept asking, What? What? What? while he was mumbling something until he finally said, Nigga, fuck you, which is the only thing I understood. Whatever, man, I said and hung up. Ever since we've moved from Q Street we've been getting odd calls--mostly for the GET station but a couple times Alisha's received calls from men coming on to her. Another time I got a call from a man singing something about crab cakes. Maybe these were intentional prank calls to the GET station, but I don't know. How can you be a prank caller if you can't even dial the correct number?
I should open the curtains, but maybe it's better to keep them closed. "The Killing Moon" is playing right now on iTunes. The coffee's cold. I always lag on drinking the last half. There's this iron taste on the tip of my tongue and behind my front teeth. And I just remembered I never called my grandma back.
What, again, was the point of this.
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| Bloomsday!Happy Bloomsday!
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| Announcements, Dresses, WhatnotYesterday, Allele received five? six? different dresses from three different people. A co-worker bought her two dresses, a shirt and pants outfit, and a little Hello Kitty necklace as thanks for burning her a couple CDs. Next, as she lay on the bed in the room playing Nintendogs, my mother came by to drop my brother off and brought Allele four or five more dresses. Next we saw Alex, who came with another dress. Each time she had changed out of her previous dress and put another on. She was showered with dresses yesterday even though it isn't even her birthday yet. June 29th she will be three years old.
Yeah.
It's pretty needless to emphasize how much things have changed since then. There's a mug of coffee sitting on the desk even though June is warming up. My back is a little sore from moving boxes of frozen product and canned goods at work Thursday. And I'm sitting here with my knee bouncing, foot resting on my other foot, wondering why the phone keeps unregistering from the base. Wondering what to say next.
I guess I should announce that we're having another baby. Alisha's six months right now. Her due date is in September. I guess I should have let everyone know sooner, but I guess I've just been avoiding it. I'm scared--excited, but scared. I'm happy that Allele will have a little brother or sister in September, but I want to be able to provide them with the best. Or at least know that I'm trying to. I don't know. Sometimes it feels like I lose touch with things. That maybe there's something manifesting itself within me that controls my movements when I'm not thinking about them. Sort of like driving to a place and not remembering if you stopped at the last light or if you were driving excessively fast or slow... and being terrified by the realization that you don't remember. I keep thinking of Vonnegut's The Sirens of Titan...
Another announcement. Alisha and I married May 20th at the courthouse. My two brothers went with us to be our witnesses. We didn't have a real big thing, just went to eat afterwards, then to my mom's house to tell her what we did. We told a few people ahead of time, but didn't really want to make a big deal about it. Just mostly to get it finalized and whatnot. So now I can say "my wife" and not add feel obligated to add "well, actually, fiance". We aren't keeping that as our anniversary--it's still October 30th, the day we got together--but just, as we agreed, a small remembrance.
I've been skipping around, doing things while writing this, so it probably isn't consistent, but oh well.
I just also want to say for the first time I'm excited about one of the presidential candidates: Obama. I know there's a lot of murkiness in politics (even that word makes me shudder), but I'm really enamored by him. It gives me hope to see and listen to him speak. I don't know. I'm not basing my complete opinion of him from these articles, but I thought it would sum up why I think he's a good candidate:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/frank-schaeffer/why-this-fifty-five-year_b_105061.html
and
http://blogs.abcnews.com/politicalpunch/2008/06/barack-obama-ex.html
I guess that's it. Sorry for lousy writing/consistency.
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